Recollections

When I was a little girl, I always looked forward to the weekends, even more than I do now. My sister would get into our truck first, then my parents would load me into my car seat. They’d strap me in snug in a coat or blanket with my little feet dangling and off to Grandma’s and Grandpa’s house we’d go. My mom was close to her parents, and unlike the hustle-and-bustle pace that comes with the lives of a family with older children we had a quiet enough pace that we could visit them all the time. Their house was huge, with a wooden staircase painted pale red leading up to their porch. I remember thinking it was like a castle.

Behind the house however, was my grandparent’s property with the timber in the back. While the inside of the house was always warm and inviting, with a loving pair of arms always offering to hold me, the woods behind the house were a Dark Forest starting at dusk. During daylight hours, it was my Enchanted Forest instead. Autumn was the best time of year in the Enchanted Forest I played in. The leaves fell teasingly in bright ochres and I could jump and hide in the mountains they formed.

Sometimes I would lay on my back on the piles of leaves, resting my head and ignoring the chill of fall brushing across my face. Above me I could stare at the blue sky peeking through the labyrinth of tree branches tinted with oranges, reds, and yellows. It made me feel so very small, as did everything else then. One of the few constants of that time to now, besides the love from my family, is that same feeling. Laying back and looking up at the sky through autumn leaves still reminds me of how small I am in the grand existence of everything, and for a moment nostalgia strikes and I can simply resume a comfortable quiet pace again.

For only a few moments now, and many moments then, I cherish that forever.